


Same

by Speary



Category: Supernatural, Wayward Sisters - Fandom
Genre: 12x23, Although I ship Destiel I wrote this as general friendship fic full of angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary
Summary: When you feel like you've lost everything, sometimes all you have left is family.





	1. Chapter 1

The loss was too great to shrug off. He couldn’t just dive into another hunt, another all too violent distraction. He’d drink himself into a stupor if Sam would let him. He’d find a motel somewhere to just drown in, but Sam would really never let him do that either. They stood by the cars though, like it was somehow all determined.

Jack ran off and Sam was going after him. Smoke was still rising from the pyre. The burn marks in the yard would haunt him in his dreams. Dean didn’t give into the emotions. He couldn’t because that would be the end of him. Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, then pulled him into yet another hug. It was likely just as much for him as it was for Dean, so Dean couldn’t begrudge him that. He was Cas’ friend too after all. 

“We should get going,” Sam said as he released him.

Dean looked past him toward the lake, the place of loss, the place that would forever torment him. Cas was dead. Mary was likely dead too. There was nothing left. He finally looked at Sam and said, “I can’t.”

“We have to find Jack. He’s the key to getting mom back.” Sam sounded defeated even as he said it. He was likely clinging to this last hope. 

“If you want to go after him, then do it. I really can’t. I’m sorry.” Dean tipped his head back and closed his eyes tight against the sun, and also tight against the floodgates that seemed just about to burst.

Sam seemed to understand. He asked, “Where will you go?”

That was the million dollar question. Dean knew that he had to have the right answer if Sam was going to let him go. He’d fight him on anything less than safe. The bunker was out. It was likely compromised, and Dean didn’t have the patience for the surveillance that would be needed to determine if it was okay.

He considered saying that he’d just stay here in North Cove, but he knew that Sam wouldn’t like that option either, for obvious reasons. He leveled his gaze on Sam then and said, “Sioux Falls.” His answer fell from him quietly. He hoped that Sam would accept it.

“I’ll call Jody and let her know you’re on your way. She’ll let me know when you get there.” Sam leaned back in again and hugged him, tighter than before. “I love you, Dean.” 

“Same.” Dean stepped away then fished in his pocket for his keys. There were two sets. He handed one set to Sam. 

“You sure?” Sam took the keys to the Impala.

Dean seemed to weigh the other set in his hand. It was heavier than it should have been, this simple ring of keys. He wondered what they all went to. He only recognized the one that went with Cas’ truck. “I just gave her a tune up not too long ago. Can’t risk you going off looking for Jack with a vehicle that could die on you.” He almost choked on that sentence. “Already had to repair his truck once. It was a quick fix. Sioux Falls isn’t so far.”

“I know, it’s just…” Sam stopped and seemed to let it go. “I’ll give this a couple of weeks then I’ll come for you at Jody’s.”

“Okay.” Dean moved off to the truck, and got in. He watched Sam get into the Impala. He seemed to be waiting for Dean to leave first, like he didn’t trust him to actually go to Jody’s. 

Dean finally pulled out of the yard and rolled on down the drive toward the main road. He stared straight ahead and tried not to think. The sky was bright blue, the blue of hope. There was something cruel about that. His phone sat on the seat next to him. It buzzed. He picked it up absentmindedly and looked down at the message.  _ Sam said you’re on your way. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.  _ Dean considered turning down another road, heading away from everyone and every place that was familiar.

Jody would worry though, and so would Sam. They each would cope with the losses in their own ways, and Dean didn’t want to add to their pain. Plus, he had to tell Claire. She should hear it from someone that understood, and she should hear it in person. He pulled over and replied to Jody’s message.  _ I’ll be there. Could you ask Claire to come home. I need to tell her. _

Her reply came back in an instant.  _ Of course. Love ya. _

_ Same. _

—-

Dean didn’t stop to eat, but as the miles slid by, he found himself driving slower. He got to Jody’s house after nightfall. She was waiting outside for him. She was leaning into the doorframe with her phone clutched in her hand. She immediately started texting someone. Had to be Sam. 

Dean told himself that he would just go in and ask for a bed to crash in for a hundred years. He told himself he’d take the hug that had to happen, the words of comfort, but then he’d just find the quietest place in her house to lose himself in. He didn’t want pity or even sympathy. He was sure it would be too much. 

One look at her changed that. It was always like that with Jody. She always seemed to know just what he needed, or didn’t need. She read what was happening beneath his surfaces, the secrets he didn’t feel he could tell anyone, and she didn’t pry or press. She just let him know that she was there, and that she understood. He didn’t grab his bag that had been sliding around in the wheelwell of the truck the entire journey. He barely closed the door.

He got out and stumbled to her like a man defeated. She opened her arms to him and he fell into the hug. “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t said like others would say it, the required words of comfort for any bad situation. It was said like she knew what it was to lose in the same way. And she did know. She’d lost her husband and her child all in a single day. She’d lost her son twice. If anyone in the world understood what he was feeling, it was Jody.

She pulled him into the house, and he leaned heavily into her. He didn’t even realize that he was crying until she had him settled into the couch. He swiped at his face with the back of his arm. Jody sat down beside him and pulled him back into her side. She held him through the sobs, through the attempts at words that never really came through clearly. She stroked his hair and told him that she understood, she was sorry, she was right there. It was what he needed.

The night sped onward, and Jody stayed with him through it.

—-

Alex came down from her self-imposed exile. It wasn’t exactly easy dealing with someone else’s loss, especially if you weren’t exactly close. She rummaged around in the kitchen. Jody told her the news the night before, before Dean arrived. Claire was on her way. Alex worried a bit over what this loss would do to her. 

She pulled down pans and got some eggs out of the refrigerator. She set them aside. She prepped the coffee pot and turned it on. The burble and pop of its efforts was comforting. The rich earthy smell of it seemed to steady her. She decided to scramble the eggs up in a bowl. 

A shadow blocked the entryway to the kitchen. She looked up, expecting to see Jody. Instead it was Dean. “Hey there,” she said. 

“Hey yourself.” He moved into the room and leaned into the counter next to the coffee. 

Alex focused on the cooking. She didn’t want to give him the cliched  _ sorrys _ . Instead she pretended to know nothing. “You like eggs and potatoes?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to make me food though.”

Alex knew Dean was an eater from all the times he’d been to the house before. “You have to eat. I’ve already committed too many eggs to this bowl for just Jody and I. They’d go to waste.”

“Hmm.” He came to her side as she cracked another egg into the bowl. “You’re still cracking eggs into the bowl. You could stop.”

“You’re our guest. You’re getting eggs.” She stirred them up and then poured them into the pan.

“You want help?” he asked.

“How are you at peeling potatoes?”

“I’m a pro.” Dean almost smiled at her. He scooped up the potatoes from the counter and took them to the sink. He rinsed them and rummaged around in the drawers for the peeler. 

Alex decided to cook up some bacon too. She wasn’t going to, but with Dean working the potatoes she needed something to do. She stirred the eggs and started heating up another pan on the stove for the bacon. “I should have started with the potatoes. I never get the order right. Guess we’re gonna do the microwave shortcut.”

“I’ve done that tons of times at home. Sometimes I prefer it. The potatoes come out softer.” She could hear Dean sliding the peeler over the potatoes as he spoke. She remembered how doing things helped when she first came to Jody’s. Alex gave the eggs another stir then laid out the bacon in the other pan. Jody had put her to work in the kitchen. She’d put her to work in the yard. She even taught her basic automotive repair. At the time she had thought that Jody was just a very busy person that needed child labor. In the end she came to understand that Jody knew a thing or two about loss and how one deals.

Jody strolled through the kitchen. “Smells good. You all mind if I run upstairs and get a shower and change?”

“Go for it. This’ll be done in 20.” Alex paid attention to the eggs as she spoke. 

Dean pulled a cutting board out and set it alongside the stove. He started cutting up the potatoes into small chunks. “She’s lucky to have you. You and Claire.” Dean glanced her as he said it.

“We’re lucky to have her. Never expected to have someone like her caring about me.”

Dean glanced at the hall. “Same.”

“She say when Claire was getting home?” Alex asked it in a tone that didn’t speak to all that she knew. She removed the eggs from the stove and scooped them into a waiting bowl. She flipped the bacon over. 

“Tomorrow maybe,” Dean answered. She was wrapping up a case in northern Nevada. 

“Yeech. Nevada?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Seems she decided that a summertime desert was the place to be.” Dean finished chopping up the last potato and retrieved a bowl to microwave them in. He found the spice cabinet and pulled out some jars. He sprinkled the potatoes liberally with salt and something else.

“We can finish them off in the bacon fat once they soften up,” Alex said.

“Girl after my own heart.” Dean laughed.

“Well there’s certainly nothing wrong with bacon.” Dean was setting the bowl into the microwave and starting it. “You end up smelling like the food though after you cook it. I don’t know how food service workers deal with that.”

Dean seemed to freeze up a little. He didn’t look at her. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she also didn’t want to hurt him with too much talking. She pretended to busy herself with the bacon. Dean walked out of the kitchen.

—-

Dean stepped out into the backyard. He pulled out his phone. There were three messages from Sam. He opened them.  _ I’m staying the night in Springfield, Or. _ The next message came from a few hours later.  _ Jody let me know you arrived. I’m relieved. _ The last message came early in the morning.  _ I know you think that mom is dead. I don’t think she is. She can’t be. I’d feel it. I don’t know why, but I really think I’d know deep down. _

Dean started to reply. He didn’t know what to say. It helped sometimes to have something to cling to, something that gave you hope. He pushed the button to call Sam. It rang just once. “Dean?” He said it almost like a question.

“I don’t feel it either, but I think she’s dead. He has no reason to keep her.” He wasn’t sure why he was arguing this.  _ Maybe I want him to convince me I’m wrong. _

Sam spoke through the quiet that stretched between them. “Every time you died, I felt it. It was like something electric shot through me. I think when someone matters to you a great deal, that the connection can be felt when they pass.”

Dean thought about that. He thought about the times he’d felt the same thing. He’d felt the snap of loss that came from Sam falling into the pit. He’d felt it when Lucifer snapped his fingers and did away with Cas back at the cemetery on that same day. When they were blasted into Purgatory, he didn’t feel the loss. The deepest parts of him knew that Cas was alive and that he would find him.

He closed his eyes, phone pressed to his ear. He let his mind swim through memories and over the feelings that he closely guarded over the years. He felt his heart pounding like it wanted to leap from his chest. “Dean,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You get that I have to try don’t you?”

Dean opened his eyes and stared off toward the far end of the backyard. “Yeah.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t have left you.” Sam sounded weary.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have left you,” Dean offered up. “We each have to deal with this in our own ways though.”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“Take care of yourself.” Dean tried to pour a little affection into his tone. It wouldn’t do to have him worrying.

“I’ll find mom. I’ll bring her home soon. Promise.”

They said their goodbyes, and Dean came back to the kitchen. Alex was finishing off the potatoes in the pan. Jody came back down to them. They started moving the food out to the table. Dean tried to let his mind shut down a little. He ate with them. He sunk deeper into himself. Despite his best efforts, felt everything.

—-

Claire pulled into the driveway early in the morning. Everything was quiet. Jody’s vehicle was parked out front. The lights were all off. Dean was sitting on the front porch. Jody had said that Dean wanted her to come home. She said she couldn’t say more. Claire played out every worse case scenario. Luckily she had the case to distract her. She wrapped it up and raced home.

It had been months since she’d been back. She’d been dreading it a little. She worried about the judgement. She’d worried even more about the way that she’d get some sort of quiet acceptance that wasn’t acceptance at all.

She tried texting Alex for details. She didn’t want to walk into some sort of intervention or something. She was met with silence. She knew that Alex had seen the messages. She got the little notification that said that the text was read. If Alex knew how, she’d switch that off. Claire assumed that it was all bad, maybe the kind of bad that you just run away from rather than race toward. She considered heading south. 

She texted Cas. He didn’t reply, and from the looks of things he didn’t read the text. Like Alex he hadn’t adjusted his notification settings either. She didn’t drive south though, and she didn’t run away. She pulled into the driveway, and braced herself for what was to come. 

She pulled her bag from the back seat and called out to Dean, “Hey old man.” She just wanted to get a rise out of him. He looked too serious just then.

He got up. He didn’t reply. She strolled toward him. She could feel something tightening in her gut.  _ Bad, bad, bad. Something bad happened. _ She stopped just in front of him. The sun was coloring the world in shades of gold and rose. Dean looked like a broken man even in that morning light. He sucked in a shaky breath and said, “Cas…” He choked on whatever was going to come out next. 

Claire knew enough, and threw her arms around him. She could feel his body shaking as she clung to him. She knew what this level of emotion meant. It didn’t mean that he was hurt or just gone. It meant that he was dead. She felt some deep twist in her chest like she was being rung out. “He can’t be.” She managed the words. They came out muffled since her face was pressed to Dean’s chest.

“He is.” They spoke in these half sentences, and it was somehow enough. They made their way into the house together. They didn’t talk. Dean couldn’t explain. She let him have time. She held him in the entryway. She closed her eyes and tried to find Cas in the recesses of her mind. They were connected. She’d have felt it, she thought. She remembered what he’d said of longing. She felt that longing even now, deep like he was her father, her mother, her family. He mattered to her despite everything that brought them together. He mattered.

Looking into Dean’s eyes, she knew that he understood. He felt what it meant for them to lose him. He maybe felt it more, felt it different, but still he felt it. 

—-

He’d felt this sort of grief before, the deep burn of loss. He’d felt the way that rooms full of people could be empty. He’d felt the kind of odd hollowness that filled his waking hours, and the falling dreams that ate up his nights. He kept waking with a start. His head pounding like the worst hangover ever. 

Dean still prayed. He had lost friends before. This was different. This was family. Sam had messaged to tell him that he still had nothing, which wasn’t helpful. He still had Sam though. He took some kind of comfort in that. Claire stayed close. Sometimes they’d just sit out on the back porch together and not talk about a damn thing. It helped somehow, just sharing the quiet, just knowing that she understood.

Sometimes Jody or Alex would join them. There was a lot of cooking, like they were all worried that he and Claire would just starve to death at any moment. Jody also kept finding things for him to do. She was apparently not tall enough to retrieve some things from the attic or she was having car trouble. He didn’t question it out loud, but he knew what she was doing. And he loved her for it.

Jody was the kind of family you find and hold onto. She seemed to see through you to what you needed most. She would set a firm hand on his knee, and he’d feel the stability there that he had needed so much. 

Sam had been gone for two weeks. Dean felt the days. He felt them and told himself  _ Sam’s been gone for five days, six days, seven days. _ It was easier than saying to himself  _ Mom’s been gone for five days, six days, seven days. _ And thoughts on Cas were best avoided. 

He slept on the little bed in Jody’s office. It was comfortable and warm. Some days he’d just stay there all day long. Jody would coax him out with something if he stayed too long. One day she just got him to the couch, and that was enough. He didn’t talk to anyone. Claire came to the couch and sat in the little space by his head. She set her hand on his head and stared off into the backyard through the big sliding glass doors. The grass out there was dry with the summer heat baking it.

In the quiet she said, “I loved him.” Dean just kept staring out at the yard. She asked, “Did he know?”

Dean didn’t turn or look up at her. He just said, “He knew.”

He felt a tear hit the top of his head. These moments always ended in one or the both of them crying. He reached up and put his hand over hers. It was all the comfort he had to give. She said, “Sam says your mom is alive. He says he feels it.”

Dean closed his eyes to the world and tried to find that feeling that Sam was so sure of. “Sam has to get through this in his own way.”

“We all do I guess.”

Dean opened his eyes. “Do you feel like Cas is still out there?” It was the first time he’d asked her anything so directly. They spoke around the loss or they didn’t speak at all.

“Yes.” She paused a moment and then said, “And sometimes no. I wonder if it is just how I’m getting through this. Maybe I’m just telling myself that he is still out there.”

Dean rolled over and looked up at her. He took a deep breath and said, “Sometimes, I feel him too.”

Claire asked, “And your mom?”

Dean couldn’t say the words, but he nodded. It was something like hope, and he worried a little that having that might be the very thing that would kill him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat in the living room, thinking that he should text Sam. He heard the sound of something breaking in the kitchen. He got up and walked into the space. Claire was staring down at the floor. “You okay?” he asked.

She just looked at him and slid down the wall of cabinets to the floor where the mess was. He moved over to her and slid down to the floor across from her. Their backs pressed to the cabinets behind them. There was a broken mug on the floor next to them. She reached out and picked up the broken handle of the mug and held it on her finger. Dean looked at the remaining pieces. He saw a cracked chunk with part of that angry cat face on it. “My hand was shaking when I pulled it from the cabinet. I should have just put it back.” Dean reached out and set his hand on her knee. “He sent it to me a couple of months ago.”

“Back when you were still living here?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.” She set down the handle and then picked up the piece with the cat still half showing on it. “Ever since you two bought me that Grumpy Cat, he’s been sending me little things with Grumpy Cat on them. The mug was the last thing he sent, and I broke it.” 

Dean got up and pulled a bowl out of the cabinet. He bent and started picking up the pieces. He put them all gently into the bowl and set them on the counter. He laid them all out on the counter and looked them over. “We can maybe fix this.”

Claire got up and stood at his side. Her arm brushed against his as they stared down at the broken pieces. “I don’t think so. The broken pieces are too small.”

“There’s enough big pieces left, I think.” Dean looked back at the drawers. “You have any superglue in one of those drawers?”

“Nah, we keep it in the garage.” Claire left him for a few moments and then returned with the glue. Dean started working on the repair job. “You don’t have to fix it. We could just get another one.”

“Wouldn’t be the same though, would it?” Dean didn’t look at her. He just kept his focus on the piece he was gluing. 

“It wouldn’t.” She picked up one of the big pieces and set it next to the base that he was working with. “I wouldn’t replace it either.”

“Last thing he tried to give me was something I gave to him.” Dean willed back the shaking that almost took over his hands. “Made him a mixtape to take on the road. Dumb bastard tried to give it back once he’d finished listening to it.”

“Sounds like Cas. Probably thought it was a loaner.”

“Yeah, told him it was a gift. Made him keep it.”

“Good,” Claire said. “I sometimes feel bad that I didn’t give him more. I sent him a postcard once from Colorado. I just saw it and thought he should have it. As luck would have it, he had an address at the time that I could send it to, otherwise it would have gone to you all at the bunker.”

“Would that have been so bad?” Dean asked.

“Nah, sometimes it’s nice to have something that you know was just meant for you. I wanted him to know I was thinking of him.” Claire looked away a moment and swiped at her face with the back of her hand. 

“I get that.” Dean slotted another piece of the mug in place. “Mom and I would play really old games on the phone, Words With Friends. She and I would talk a little between moves. I think it helped to have something that was just ours, something to bond over.”

“Have you heard from Sam.” Dean knew that what she was really asking was if Sam had found their mom yet or gotten any closer at least.

“He’s not gonna find her.” Dean set down the piece he was working with. His hand was shaking.

Claire set her hand over his for just a moment. “Sorry.” She picked up the piece and put some glue on it. She slotted it into the spot. The mug was a mess, but it was coming together. “Hey, it actually fit.”

“It’s starting to look muggish.” Dean picked up the next piece, a very jagged chunk that needed extra attention. “Maybe we should glue the pieces to this piece, then glue it as a whole to the rest of the mug.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Claire smiled up at him. He almost smiled back. They both looked back at the mug and let the task fill the moment. It was easier that way. 

—-

It had been three days since he’d heard from Sam. Each day there was at least some short text, just to say he was alive and doing something. Sometimes they’d actually talk. They stayed on safe topics, the Impala, diner food, where Sam was at the moment. Dean talked a little about Claire, but he didn’t share much of the day to day. It all felt too close to the things that hurt, the ones that he lost. 

Family. Dean thought about what that meant to him now. He knew it wasn’t blood. Bobby taught him that a long time ago. He saw it all first hand in the Mill’s household too. He remembered what it was to feel like he could depend on family. He was worried that he was losing some of that. He was worried that he had nothing left to give. He was worried that he was drained dry. 

In the midst of his thoughts, Jody asked him to fix her lawn mower, claiming that she just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. He pretended to believe her, as it gave him something to think about that wasn’t his mom or Cas. Now he was also worrying about Sam. He was staring down at his phone and the texts that he’d sent. He wondered how long he would be able to push down the fear that something was wrong, that he was maybe going to lose Sam too.

The sun was hot overhead. He started sweating even before he ventured out into the yard. The lawnmower was sitting there waiting for him. He roamed over to the garage and got the tools he thought he’d need. He positioned the lawnmower next to the porch and let his thoughts find distraction in the fixing. It was good to be here, good to have some occupation for his hands that didn’t include lifting a bottle to his lips. 

He could drown in this just as well. He also thought that he had to try just a little at least, for Sam, and maybe even for Claire. She was inside the house looking for her own distractions, her own way of mourning. He wondered when fixing a lawn mower became part of the mourning process.  _ Probably when fixing a mug became part of the mourning process. _ Maybe for Dean it was necessary to fix something when everything felt broken. 

Dean wondered how long this would be enough. He wondered if it was even enough now or just a temporary distraction. He let the thought roll around in his mind. He looked off down the street that seemed to run on forever. Some nights he’d walk down the sidewalk just to move a bit. He’d breathe in the hot, dusty air and imagine other times. He wasn’t paying enough attention to the task in front of him. He cut his hand on the blade. Dean squeezed his hand into a fist. Blood flowed to the grass. He was still distracted by his thoughts. He felt something as he sat there, bleeding, like a great shift in the world had happened. He closed his eyes and listened. He could hear the distant roar of a familiar engine.

—-

The Impala carried Sam and Dean over thousands of miles of American roads. It had done much for the boys. Now it carried Sam on his lonely mission. The more he drove, the more he wondered just how pointless it all was. He held the steering wheel in a tight grip, and played song after song from Dean’s collection on the old stereo. 

Nothing was coming of the effort. He grieved. He looked at the land rolling by, all baked to a golden hue. He sometimes rolled the window down and let the air beat over his face with its relentless heat. The miles did nothing to heal his heart. He lost his friend. He lost his mother. And he worried now that all that loss would cause him to lose Dean too. 

Sam felt like he had to go south. He had no other direction but that. He felt the pull on him and he heeded the call. The road he was on now was long and straight. He considered stopping for the night. He felt like he was no closer to solving a damn thing, despite the miles he’d covered. It wasn’t like him to head out without a plan. It wasn’t like him to just drive as if that was everything. The first night he told himself he’d do research, but just as soon as he heard from Jody, he went off to the local market and bought way too much alcohol for one person.

He drank until he passed out. It wasn’t like him. He told himself that he knew how to cope, how to mourn. This was Dean’s way, and he knew it wasn’t the best way to go. Sam glanced back at the back seat, Cas’ seat, and saw that he still had some bottles left. He had them wedged securely in an old milk crate.

He told himself that his mom was still alive, that it was still possible to save her. When he went to bed at night, he wondered if he was just delusional. He knew Lucifer, perhaps better than most. He knew that he wasn’t the type of being to hang onto someone. He’d been on a bit of a killing spree too. Killing Mary would make sense.

Yet, Sam didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel her absence in the universe the way that he thought he should. Sometimes he’d talk to himself in the Impala as the miles flew by. He’d run through all of the logical reasons for Mary to be kept alive. He’d tell himself that Lucifer was logical, and that there was no reason to give up just yet. 

Dean would text. He’d ask questions that he didn’t really want answered. Sam would reply with an economy of words. He loved Dean, but he knew what his brother could handle and what he couldn’t. Dean asked where he was. He’d reply. Dean asked if he was okay. Sam told him he was. He wasn’t though. He was feeling the quiet in the car and the time that passed too slowly and also too fast.

Mary had been with them for mere months. It took nearly that whole time to really have anything with her that resembled a relationship. He remembered what it was to hold her and to be held in return. He remembered the taste of the word mom on his tongue and how nice it was to say it. 

He found a spot to stop at for the night. He’d made it to Arizona. He got a room at some run down motel. He paid by the hour and bought six. He carried in his milk crate and planned to drink again. He set it on the table by the window, and stared out at the flickering street lights that framed the parking lot. A wind blew dust devils over the asphalt. Sam sighed and opened the first bottle.

—-

The pounding on the door woke him up at dawn. He rolled out of the bed, fully clothed. He felt the rough crunch of the carpet between his toes. The pounding on the door shook him. He could feel each punch of it ripping at his head. He yanked the door open, ready to sock someone. “Your six hours are up. Pay up or get out.” Sam fished around in his pocket and pulled out a ten. He pushed it into the guy’s chest.

“Give me a few minutes.” 

The guy looked down at the wadded up ten and said, “Fine. I’ll be back in twenty minutes if you aren’t gone.”

“I’ll be gone.” Sam closed the door, and looked for his socks and shoes. He found them, put them on, and then went into the bathroom. The man that greeted him in the mirror did not look like him. He was haggard and filthy. He’d been on the road for weeks. He hadn’t made the journey easy on himself.  _ Shit. _ He turned on the water and splashed some on his face. He considered shaving, just to be a little more presentable, but he didn’t care enough. Time was passing, and he felt it.

He grabbed his milkcrate and keys. He opened up the Impala and set the alcohol in the back. The guy that had beat on his door earlier was walking by. Sam tossed the room key to him. He rounded the car and got in. He started the engine and then pulled out his phone. Dean had messaged him. He asked where he was. Sam thought about replying, but he didn’t have it in him. He needed to talk, like really talk.

They called each other some days, but Sam needed to tell him what he was feeling, fearing, and how it was all tearing him apart. He needed Dean to hop into a car and come help him. He needed to not be alone in a car that carried too many memories, the ghosts of all too many moments both good and ill.

He put the phone back in his pocket and drove. The miles passed and he felt them, every single one.

—-

Sam was still feeling the effects of the drinking from the night before. Dean kept texting. He kept ignoring him. He chose to turn down a small single lane road. It made no sense to do so, but most of his journey made no sense. The road in front of him glowed with the light of one long golden slit hovering in the middle of the road. He slammed on the brakes, but he was going just fast enough to slide right on into it.

The Impala came to a stop. Sam threw the car into park. He got out of the car and stood frozen at the side of the vehicle. In front of him, was a lush landscape. The land all around the road was covered in tall trees and thick undergrowth. It stood in stark contrast to the near desert landscape he’d been driving through just moments before. Aside from the landscape there was also the person that was in the road just ahead. 

Sam moved slowly toward him. “Jack,” he asked hesitantly. He moved closer.

He looked like Jack, maybe a little older though. He was wearing a loose fitting shirt over some board shorts. He smiled and tipped his head. It reminded Sam of Cas, then he spoke, and that reminded him of Cas too. “Hello, Sam.” His voice was even Cas’ voice, all low and gravelly. 

“Jack?” Sam asked again. Sam backed up. He needed to steady himself on something. The world seemed to swim a little in front of him. He felt the Impala behind him. He reached back and set his hand on the hood. 

“Jack,” he repeated the name using Sam’s voice. Jack moved closer. He stood in front of Sam and said, “This world.” His voice sounded like Cas again. “It tastes like molecules.” He tipped his head again and seemed to think with a wrinkling of his brow. “I love you. I love all of you.” 

“You’re repeating Cas.” 

There was movement up ahead in the trees. Jack reached out a hand to Sam. He raised another hand and made a slit in the world. His brows came together and he looked equal parts concerned and pained. Sam was solidly pressed against the Impala, but he still leaned closer to Jack like he wanted to help. Then Jack said in Sam’s voice, “She can’t be. I’d feel it.” Sam recognized the words and when they’d been spoken, but the movement in the trees was of greater concern.

“I hate to cut this short Jack, but it looks like we’re gonna get some company. Can you get us out of here?”

Jack nodded and once again in Cas’ voice, “Run!” Neither of them ran though. The portal in front of them glowed bright and golden. Still holding Sam’s arm, Jack reached back and touched the portal that pulled them to another world.

—-

Dean stood in the bathroom, bleeding into the sink as Jody rinsed his wound. “Alex!” she called out. She looked back at Dean and said, a little quieter, “You gotta be more careful. You look like you need stitches.”

Dean tilted his hand up and looked at it. The gash wasn’t the worst he’d seen by far, but it was stitch worthy. “It might heal up just fine without it.” He wasn’t sure if that was true, but he didn’t want to deal with stitches.

“Don’t be stupid.” Jody called out again, “Alex!”

She poked her head into the bathroom. “What’re you yelling about?” She looked down at Dean’s hand and the blood and then back at Jody.

“Wanna practice the healing spell?” Jody asked.

Alex reached out and took Dean’s hand. She tipped it and got closer. Her brows scrunched up a little as she scrutinized it. “Looks like it’d be easy enough.”

Dean interrupted, “I’m not really down with the whole witchy business.”

Jody blanched. “Don’t be stupid.” She turned to Alex and said, “Go get the supplies. I stored them in the hall closet.” She left and Jody turned her attention back to Dean. “You make no sense sometimes. You and Sam work with spells to do any number of things. Why’s a healing spell any different?”

Dean looked away. He wasn’t going to answer her, then he sucked in a breath and said, “I’ve been healed so many times, I can hardly count them. Not usually through spell work though. Sometimes I would choose to heal up naturally, because I didn’t think so much energy should be wasted. This is one of those times. The cut’s small.”

Jody leaned down and planted a feather light kiss on his head. “You aren’t the only one that needs to be allowed to fix things. Let us have the comfort that comes from making things right.”

Alex came back into the room and set a small golden bowl on the sink counter. She had some dried ingredients in the bowl already. Dean recognized most of them at a glance. She took his hand and held it over the bowl. She spoke in a soft voice close to his hand. She let him go a moment, but it was clear that he was not to move. He kept his hand hovering over the bowl as she lit her match. She dropped it into the bowl beneath his hand, and the contents of the bowl burst upwards around his hand.

Dean could feel the pinching in his palm where the wound was sealing up. “Wow,” he said into the quiet.

“I know. She’s gotten quite good at this.” Jody looked on with obvious pride. 

“I can’t do anything bigger than this.” She was already cleaning up. “Jody got a little knick once when she was cutting up some veggies for dinner. We’d been practicing some stuff, and decided I should give it a go.”

“It’s not exactly safe to just randomly practice witchcraft,” Dean said.

“Oh, she’s making it sound a bit too casual. I have a friend who practices. He’s been teacher her. It seems like something we should know.” Jody turned on the water to rinse down the blood. “Turns out the skill has proven quite useful.”

Alex picked up the bowl and stepped out of the room. “Anyway, let me know if you need anything else.” Jody just smiled after her as she left.

“So, who’s this witch.” Dean watched her as she busied herself with cleaning up the sink that wasn’t all that dirty.

“You know him.” She nodded toward the door for them to venture out to the living room.

“And he is?” Dean asked as they came to the couch. Jody sat, and Dean did the same.

“Max Banes. His sister helped a little too. Alex and Alicia seemed to get along well.”

Dean processed that. “When did you last see him?” 

“A few weeks before you arrived.” Jody folded her hands in front of her.

“How’s he been doing?”

“You mean since Alicia died?” Dean nodded at her. “Well, he found a way to cope with that.”

Dean tried to read her, but he came up short. “What do ya mean?”

“He has some concerns about you knowing. He asked me not to mention it, but I don’t think that this is a secret that he could keep from you.”

“You have to tell me.” 

Jody hesitated then said, “He brought her back, some sort of magic. He explained it to me, told me about the woman that killed his mom and Alicia. He used her magic and brought Alicia back.”

“That’s not good.” Dean thought about the last time he saw Max. He remembered the way he looked, the defeat there. He understood the feeling.  _ Why’d we leave him? _ It was another choice that he let himself feel guilty over. 

“I’m not sure they’d agree.” Jody reached over to him and set a hand on his knee. “It was an extreme choice. I’ll give you that, but she gets to live. And he gets his sister back. I know some guys that did worse to get the same.”

Dean looked away. “Yeah.” He folded his hands together and pressed them to his forehead. “Guess it’s the same.”

“It is. She doesn’t know what he did. She likely never will. Max said he just couldn’t do this,” Jody waved her hand at the world, “without his sister.”

“Seems like she should know then. I’ve done a lot of damage in the past by not telling Sam important things like that.”

Jody nodded. “I’ll press the issue with him the next time that I see him. He wasn’t ready for that yet though. Not sure she could have handled it either. They stayed here for a couple of weeks. They needed a place that felt like home. Seems like I provide a certain service.” Jody smiled at him.

“You do.” Dean set his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “When do you think you’ll see them again?”

“Eventually. I really will talk to him about it all. Don’t worry.”

Dean nodded. “I just…” Dean sighed. “I just feel responsible. We should have stayed with him or brought him with us.”

“And not let Alicia live?” Jody looked concerned, like she disagreed.

“I don’t know. That kind of magic comes with a price tag, a high one.”

“He’s willing to pay the price, and if anyone understands that, I’m pretty sure it’s you. You couldn’t have stopped him. Let that guilt go. I’m also not so sure you should have stopped him.”

Dean seemed to remember then, that they had more in common on this subject than he was considering. Jody’s son came back once too. “How do we know she’ll be like herself and not some twisted version of herself?”

“I watched her. I read up on the magic that brought her back. I talked with Max. It’s not like it was here.” She didn’t explain any more, but it was clear that she was speaking of the dead that rose in Sioux Falls all those years ago.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shoot us down that path.” Dean felt her hand squeeze his.

“You lose family, and it literally tears something right out of you. Time passes, and you tell yourself that you’ve healed, that you’ve got this. Most days I do fine. Most days I find distractions. I’ve got Alex and Claire now, and they make things easier. I’ve got you and Sam too, and I love you all.”

Dean squeezed her hand again, and said, “Same.”

Jody smiled. “But it’s never actually just easy. That’s the way it is with losses like this. You always feel it.” And somehow Dean knew she was talking about his losses too. “I think of him, my little boy, everyday. I keep his blanket on my bed, and I remember when it stopped smelling like him.”

Dean got up and walked to the window. He ran a hand up through his hair. “What if Alicia doesn’t stay okay? What if things change like they did for your kid?”

“Then Max will deal with it. At least he got this time to mourn or feel what he needed to feel. This was his way of getting through, and I can’t see any clear way of begrudging him that. Neither of us is guilty of any less.”

Dean nodded, and leaned into the doorframe. It was a lot to consider. Jody was right though. He’d have done the same if it would have been an option again.

—-

Claire laid in her bed. She faced the nightstand on the far wall, the door at her back. It wasn’t her usual way. She would normally face the door.  _ Never turn your back on dangerous places. _ Doors were dangerous. At night they could open and let the bad guys in. She’d spent enough time in dark places, places that had doors that didn’t stay closed. She had a natural fear of those sorts of places, born from experience.

That fear turned to something hard in her, something that made her hyperaware of movement in the night and dangers that might be lurking, waiting just for her. When she was in this room though, in Jody’s home, it was different. There was comfort here, safety, the likes of which one really only found in places that they called home. Her door was opening; although, she wasn’t facing it, she wasn’t afraid. Most would knock. Since it was opening without the accompanying knock, she knew it was Alex. “You should knock first, creeper.”

“Did some spellwork.”

Claire felt her bed dip at her back. She rolled over and faced her a little. Alex had her spell bowl on her lap. She faced the door. “Tired?” she asked.

“Yeah.” The magic often made Alex tired. The first few spells knocked her out. She set the bowl down on the floor. She turned to Claire a little. “Maybe one day I won’t suck at this so much.”

Claire laughed, “You’re better than I’d be.” She patted the space next to her so Alex would lay down. “What sort of spellwork did you do?”

“Dean cut his hand on the lawn mower blade. I fixed him.” Alex stifled a yawn. Claire started to get up to go check on him. Alex set a hand on her. “He’s fine. I really did fix him.”

“Okay.” Claire settled back into the bed, but she still felt the need to see for herself. She’d wait though for Alex to sleep. Her eyelids were already fluttering like she was barely keeping herself awake. “Too bad you don’t know a spell for depression.”

Alex seemed to wake up a bit more. “I do. It’s not good though. It just makes you feel unnaturally happy all the time.”

“Not sure how that’s bad.” 

“The sadness matters. It makes us who we are. No one’s ever just happy. You take that part of someone away and they aren’t themselves anymore.” Alex threaded their fingers together and held her hand. “You’re family. You think I didn’t consider it for you?”

“I’m a pain in your ass, Jody’s too.” Claire closed her eyes. “Think I don’t know how disappointed she’s been with me. Maybe if I wasn’t so miserable, I could do the college thing like she wants me to.”

“Or maybe you can just be you, and do what you do. Being fake happy wouldn’t make things better. It’d just make things different.”

Claire opened her eyes then and watched as Alex’s eyes flutter closed. Soon enough her breathing was sleep soft. She didn’t leave her side to go check on Dean. Instead, she trusted that he was okay, that they’d all be okay at least for awhile.

—-

Jack let him go. Lightning cracked overhead. Sam still felt the Impala at his back, steadying him. The distant metal spikes framed the horizon. He couldn’t see the bodies impaled on them from this distance, but he knew they were there. Sam asked, “Is my mom still here?”

“Yes.” Jack spoke in a soft voice, Kelly’s voice.

Sam didn’t know if the word was Jack’s attempt at speaking the truth or if he just didn’t have any other words. It was also possible that he was just repeating things, and that the words were entirely disconnected from what was happening around them. Sam decided to test things. “Do you know who I am?”

Jack tipped his head to the side and looked at him. His voice was rough like Dean’s when he said, “Sam.”

“Good.” Sam decided to ask another question. “And the angel that protected you was?”

Still in Dean’s voice, Jack yelled, “Cas!”

“Okay, maybe next time pick a quieter moment to repeat.” Sam smiled.

Jack decided to pick one of the quieter moments from Dean. “Cas.”

Sam said, “Better.” He looked out at the vast wasteland that surrounded them. “Can we get my mom from here and bring her back to our world?”

“Yes.” And in Cas’ voice, “Sometimes good things do happen.”

—-

The clock on the nightstand glowed blue. It was three am. Claire slipped out of the bed, careful not to disturb Alex. She hadn’t eaten dinner, and her stomach rumbled in complaint. She moved through the dark, not wanting to turn on any lights or wake anyone up.

Dean was in the kitchen though, staring into the open fridge. “You couldn’t sleep either?” she asked.

“Got hungry.” He pulled out the leftover pasta from the night before.

“Same,” she said. “You gonna eat all of that?”

“Only if you help.” He peeled back the plastic wrap and put the bowl in the microwave. He mashed some buttons and hit start. “Alex okay?”

“Yeah, she’s sleeping. She gets tired after doing the spell work thing.”

Dean looked guilty. “Shouldn’t have let her do it.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

Dean laughed. “I swear I’ve been told that at least three times in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Well, maybe third time’s the charm. You gonna stop saying stupid things now?”

“Seems unlikely.” Dean gave his attention to the microwave. He watched the timer slowly run down by a minute, then another. He turned it off and removed the bowl.

Claire opened a drawer and grabbed a couple of forks. “This one reheats nicely. Jody only makes it for company.”

“So you got me to thank for this one?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, she and Alex try to fix people with food. They’re gonna feed our feels until we’re happy or fat or both.”

Dean laughed at her again. They each speared pieces of pasta and ate. It was peaceful in the kitchen. The low hum of the fridge and the low lighting made the place feel calm and cozy. Claire watched him close his eyes on a bite. The bowl was nearly empty now. “You feel that?” he asked.

She had felt something. “Like a big truck driving by?”

“Like that, but not that.” Dean stalked over to the front door and opened it. Claire followed him. They stepped out onto the dark porch. The crescent moon was bright in the star speckled sky. “You hear that?”

Claire listened. She could hear an engine. It was far away. “Yeah. It sounds like someone driving far away.”

“You hear the engine noise then?” Dean sounded a little frazzled. She reached out and snaked a hand around his waist.

“I hear it, but it’s not anything special.” She looked off in the direction he was looking.

“Maybe.” He looked back at her. He pulled her in close and wrapped his own arm around her a bit more. He rubbed warmth into her other arm. It wasn’t exactly cold out, but it wasn’t warm either. There was also something about the moment that seemed almost chilling. Dean was clearly feeling something. 

She didn’t want to encourage him or make him feel something that would give him pointless hope, but all of a sudden, she did feel something. “There was a shift.” It was the only way she could think of to describe it.

“Yeah, I felt that. Electric.” Dean was staring off down the road again, like he was waiting for something to come to them.

“What was it?”

“Dunno.” 

She let the silence linger as they listened for something beyond the normal night noises. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the feeling that Dean described as electric, but she’d describe as a warm rush of air. They waited and waited.

—-

Jack let him go and got into the back seat of the Impala. It took Sam a moment to follow him, to get into the driver’s seat. He looked back at Jack. “I drank a liquor store,” Jack said as he looked down at the milk crate.

“Not inaccurate, but I need something more useful than that. Where do we go from here?”

Jack tipped his head and a song came out. “Which is the way that’s real?”

“You are not helpful right now.” Sam started the car and drove down the too rough road. “Guess you got some pop culture in there. Dig through that and find some way to tell me where to go to find my mom.”

“Mama, just killed a man, put a gun against his head…” Jack was singing again.  _ So not helpful. _

“Directions, Jack. Directions would be helpful right now.” Sam sounded frustrated. The road was empty, but something told him that wouldn’t last. 

A demon stepped out into the road. Sam slammed on his brakes. He had the demon knife. Jack stepped out of the car. He began stepping toward the demon. Sam got out and set a hand on him to stop him. Jack was talking. It took him a second to realize that he was saying the words to the exorcism. He was using Sam’s voice. The demon tipped its head to the side, like it didn’t know what it was hearing. Then, as Jack got to the last words, the creature shot away, like it had been propelled by some great force away from them.

Sam asked, “Where’d it go.”

Jack sang, “500 miles, and I’d walk 500 more just to be the man to walk a thousand miles and fall down at your door…” Sam recognized the song and the voice was Dean’s. He’d have to pick on him for knowing those lyrics.

“That’s a safe distance.” Sam started to head back to the car. “Where do we go now?” Jack pointed to a mountain in the distance. “Well, okay then.” 

—-

The mountain was farther away than it seemed to be at first glance. They drove all day. The world was empty. There were miles of road with no signs of life. Even off in the distance, Sam couldn’t see a town or another car. Then night came, and he thought that surely he’d see the lights of a distant city. There was nothing though. Sam wondered what they’d do if they found Lucifer. He had no plans, no support, nothing that could even remotely be considered a weapon against Lucifer.

He glanced into the mirror at Jack. He wasn’t exactly a formidable ally. He spoke in songs and repeated words and phrases, hardly helpful. Yet, he had brought them both here. Sam felt the stirring that had been pulling him along on his journey. He kept telling himself that it was his mom, that she was calling to him.

“Do you need to sleep?” Sam asked. 

“No.” Jack leaned into the seat in front of him. 

“You know you can sit in the front seat.” It had been hours of this driving, and it was really weird having him sit in the back where Cas would have been on a normal day.

Jack glanced at the seat and said, “Mom.” As if that explained things.

Sam drove onward.

—-

At the base of the mountain there was a small abandoned town. Sam parked at the curb that ran in front of what looked like an old library. The place looked like something out of an old  _ Twilight Zone _ episode,”The Town That Time Forgot” or something like that. 

They got out of the car, and Sam felt the need to go up into the old Library. The door creaked open as he pushed on it. Jack moved past him into the entryway. Sam followed him. The books still lined the shelves. They were just dust covered  now and some shelves were tipped and spilling out their contents.

Jack walked back through the place, like he knew where he was going. They got to a room full of children’s books. There were benches painted with bright cartoony flowers and sunshine. One had a rainbow stretching from one end to the other. He moved toward it and traced it with an outstretched finger. “Mom.” His voice sounded a bit like Dean’s but tinged with a sadness that drew Sam to him.

Sam set a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah.” He remembered the rainbow painted in the house in North Cove, Jack’s name laid out under it. This was what he thought of when he thought of a mom, and this was where he thought Sam wanted to go. He felt suddenly too tired to keep going. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Jack nodded and sat down on his bench.

Sam made his way out to the car. He rubbed at his face a little, chasing away the tears that were forming there.  _ It was all for nothing. _ He opened the back door to the Impala and pulled out the milk crate and his duffel bag. He went back in. Jack was where he left him. Jack got up and wandered the aisles of books in the room. Sam looked around for stuff that he could pile up for sleeping on. 

He found some cushions likely from some long ago time when people would take their kids to the library for reading time or something. He laid them out in the middle of the room. He sat down and pulled over his milk crate. He picked a bottle at random and twisted off the cap. He took a good long pull from it. He watched Jack pull down one book then another. He seemed to finally settle on one that he brought back to the bench. 

Sam kept drinking. Jack looked like he was reading. How he was doing that in the dark was a mystery. Some light was coming in from the overhead skylight, but it was still night, and the moon was not full. Sam remembered thinking that the moon looked like a smile, and how that seemed cruel somehow. The universe was just smiling away while everything went to hell. 

He missed home and Dean. He missed his mom and Cas. He wanted to tell Jack to just open up a portal to Sioux Falls so he could be done with all of this. Jack would likely just sing something though, maybe “Sweet Home Alabama” or something equally disconnected.

He finished the bottle and Jack was still reading. Sam felt the world shifting a little, like he was falling. He closed his eyes and that did it for him. He tipped back to the mat and slept.

—-

Dean stayed with Claire out on the porch. They watched the night pass. They eventually sat together on the front step. He held her at his side and felt her breaths come heavier as sleep wormed its way back in. He felt something out there. He didn’t know what it was, but it was something that mattered. He was sure. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Sam.

_ Where are you? Three days and no reply is three days too long. _ He hit send then realized it had been four days now. Didn’t matter really. He waited. He hoped to feel the telltale buzz of an incoming message. It didn’t happen. Claire spoke from beside him. Her voice groggy with sleep. “He’s okay. He’ll come home soon.”

He gave her a little squeeze. It was funny how she felt like she had to reassure him. “I know. He’s out there. Hopefully, he’s not getting into any trouble.” Claire hummed an acknowledgement. “I should be with him.”

She sat up a little and looked at him. “You’re maybe right where you’re supposed to be.” She stretched. They’d been out on the porch for most of the night, waiting for something that might not come. 

The roar of a distant engine caused them both to turn. “You heard that right?”

“Yes.” She stood and walked to the end of the yard. Dean came to her side. They watched the dark road. They heard the roar of the engine again. It was closer.

—-

Sam woke up by slow degrees. Light was pouring in on him from the skylight. Jack was staring down at him. He held his book to his chest. Jack said, “Mornin’ Sunshine.” He smiled. Sam rolled over and then sat up. 

Jack handed him an apple. It was fresh and bright red. Sam took it and ate. “Where’d you get this?” Jack pointed off toward a door, Sam assumed he meant somewhere outside. He kind of cursed himself a little for not being better at watching over the kid. Jack watched him eat. He sat down on the mat facing Sam. He didn’t expect Jack to answer, but he asked anyway. “What’d you read last night?”

Jack held out the book in his hands. The cover said,  _ Mythology _ in bright gold letters. Jack said, “Mom.”

Sam reached out to take the book. Jack let him. Once it was in his hands, Jack reached out and flipped the pages for him. He came to the section on Dionysus, god of wine. He tapped a paragraph repeatedly. “Okay, I’ll read it.” Sam looked down at the page and started to read, “Dionysus, called Bacchus by the Romans, was the twice-born god. His father was Zeus and his mother was sometimes Semele, sometimes Demeter or Persephone.” He looked up at Jack with a raised brow.

“Mom,” was all Jack said. He tapped the page for Sam to continue.

“Where Semele was his mother, the story of his birth is rather tragic.” Sam seemed to see where this was going. “Oh,” he said as he looked up at Jack. “Hera caused her to have doubts, doubts that lead to a deadly request. She asked that Zeus show himself to her in all of his undisguised glory. He did and she immediately burst into flames. Dionysus fell, fully formed from the ashes of his mother’s womb to the earth. Zeus claimed him. And though he was born of a god, he knew what it was to feel sorrow and loss. He died each season and was reborn again. He became known as the god of resurrection.”

Sam looked at him. He stopped reading and tried to make sense of why Jack wanted him to read this at all. Then Jack spoke, and it wasn’t with someone else’s voice. At least Sam didn’t recognize it if it was. “He was in some myths the son of Persephone, goddess of the dead. When he was taken from her and put into the womb of Semele, a mortal woman, he maintained the power that came from such parentage. Still, a bond was formed with Semele, who carried him in her womb after Zeus made her consume the unborn child’s heart. He loved her, and as he lay, naked and mewling in the ashes of her destroyed body, he vowed that he would save her. He would mend her broken form and give her life again as a reward for her love and kindness.”

Sam reached out to him and said, “She did love you.” He meant Kelly. He hoped Jack understood. 

“Mom.” Jack closed the book and got up. He walked to the door or the library past which he had gotten the apple. He opened it. “Mom,” he said again. Sam walked to the door. On the other side of it was an overgrown garden, and in the midst of it was Mary.

“Mom,” Sam choked out. She stared back at him.

—-

The roar of the engine grew closer. They heard the noise of it and kept staring off at the end of the road. Claire thought she should run in and get Jody. Something was off. Dean held her hand though, and she didn’t want to leave him alone. Then a bright golden light flashed in the road, like some sort of contained bit lightning. Tires squealed, and suddenly where there was nothing before the Impala appeared.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. “Son of a bitch.”

—-

She held him, breathing in thick gulps of air as she clung to him. “Sam.” She kept repeating his name like it was all she could say. He had no intention of letting her go. He had so many questions, not the least of which was,  _ Where’s Lucifer? _ He didn’t ask though. He just held on until Jack’s hand settled on them both.

They turned to him at the same time. “Leave, go.” It was in Cas’ voice. He pointed to the front of the library. Sam knew now to do what he was told. They rushed together out to the Impala. Sam started to drive, then in front of them there was a bright golden slash. They snapped from this world to their own. 

“Shit, Jack.” Sam glanced up into the mirror. “Warn a guy a little.” He focused back on what was in front of him and realized where he was. 

Mary said, “North Cove?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“Why are we here?” Mary asked. They both turned to Jack. He smiled.

—-

The Impala stopped right in front of them. The headlights were blinding. The noise of the engine was loud in the otherwise quiet night. Dean took a step forward. Claire went with him. The driver’s side door creaked open and Sam stepped out. “Dean.” It was the most welcome sight he’d seen in weeks.

Dean said, “Sam,” and almost surged forward toward him, when the other door opened and his mom stepped out into the world. “Holy shit.”

“Nope, just your mom,” She smiled and came to him. He felt his knees buckling beneath the weight of it all. She threw her arms around him and pulled him into a fierce hug. “I’m home. I’m home.”

—-

The pyre was ash in front of the cottage. Jack moved to it and closed his eyes. “Mom.” The word sounded different now, more his.” Sam and Mary stood back and watched him, let him grieve if that was what he was doing. Then the ashes stirred, and the column of dust rose into the sky. Jack stepped back from it and watched.

There was no fear in him. He did not shake or cry out. He stood with one hand stretched out to the whirling mass of ashes and wind like he’d hold onto it. It took form. They knew before it was done who it would be. As suddenly as it began, it ended. The wind subsided. The ashes were no mome. Kelly stood before them, holding Jack’s hand. “Hello, Jack.” Her lip curled up into a small smile. Her eyes glistened under the moonlit sky. “You’re as beautiful as I imagined.”

—-

The noise woke Jody with a start. She stumbled out of bed and grabbed her robe. Alex was in the hall ahead of them. “You heard something too?”

“Felt it.” They made their way to the door. “Hopefully, the neighbors don’t investigate.”

“People around here know to pretend that the bump in the night is just a bump.” They stepped out onto the porch and saw the Impala and Sam. They also saw Mary holding Dean. Claire stood off to the side to let the reunion happen. 

Alex stepped out onto the yard. The back doors of the Impala opened. Alex was at Claire’s side in an instant. She looked to her face. She saw the shock there. Claire said, “Son of a bitch.”

—-

Jack kept Kelly’s hand in his own. He walked to the place where Cas had died. The body had been burned alongside Kelly’s. Sam asked, “Can you bring him back too?”

Jack just smiled. He held his hand over the space and a small stream of golden light fell from his hand. “Just this once,” he said.

—-

Kelly and Jack stepped out of the one side of the car. On the other side, there was Cas. Claire was already running to him. He caught her up in his arms and held her. She was clinging to him as she said, “Don’t you ever do that again. No dying. You don’t get to die.”

His low rumble of a laugh seemed to rush through her. “As you wish.” He kissed the top of her head. She looked up at his face and saw that he was looking off toward the house, toward Dean. She let him go. He took her hand and together they walked. Dean met them halfway.

“You asshole,” Dean said.

She let his hand go, and he pulled Dean into a hug. Dean’s hands shook as his fingers twisted into the fabric of the shirt Cas was wearing. Claire moved in and hugged them both. Moments passed out their in the night, and then Sam was there, and Mary. They held on too. Claire felt Jody and Alex at her side. They stood in the glow of the Impala’s headlights and the night slowly turned to day.

—-

Afternoon came, and Alex and Jody were cooking for an army that had a lot of feelings to feed. Claire felt dazed, like she was still sleeping. She moved out into the backyard where Dean sat with Cas on one side and Mary on the other. He had a hand on each of them like he didn’t trust them being out of reach. Sam sat in a chair next to Mary. She held his hand. 

Cas patted the spot next to him. Claire came to it and sat. He draped his arm over her shoulder, pulled her in close. She leaned her head on him. He smiled as she looked up at his face. He said, “It’s good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for any kudos you feel like leaving and any kind words. You can also find me on Tumblr under the name [Spearywritesstuff](http://spearywritesstuff.tumblr.com/) or more often on Twitter under the name [Spearywrites](https://twitter.com/spearywrites)


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